


neo.naturalisma

by Anonymous



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Cyborgs, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Neglect, Other, Physical Disability, Robots, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It’s not easy being free. It’s not easy being not free.





	1. Chapter 1

A ladybug lands on Ren’s eyelash, barely touching before flying away. Ren blinks, marked by the grating of metal on metal. It stretches its shins out, solar strips shimmering in the midday sun. A drop of water from the plant hanging above falls on Ren’s eyelash and sizzles upon contact. Maybe it should go inside.

An old man in archaic dress and a tall - Ren’s lenses quietly whirr and click as they focus - robot round the onto this street. Their gait slows and Ren straightens out its apron. 

“Hello dear,” the old man nods at it. “Is Mr. Sakura in?”

There’s a faint steady pulsing and a low hum in the air around them. 

“Sojiro is on an errand,” Ren says. “Is it about coffee?”

“Yes, we’ve heard about Leblanc’s wonderful coffee.” The man smiles a kindly old man smile, there’s a shadow in his eyes looking at the tiny businesses in the alley.

“Come in,” Ren stands up and walks into the cafe. Both hopeful patrons look at it with wide eyes. Ren positioning itself behind the counter does not dispel their apparent disbelief.

The old man requests the Guatemala SHB, Ren turns to the tall robot.

“For you, r?” Ren asks slowly. Seldom did they get a robot who ordered a drink, however not asking seems imbalanced.

The tall robot looks stoically on, deep blue lenses piercing in their information retrieval. 

“Yusuke will have the house blend,” the old man says hastily.

“Should I hold the milk?” Ren looks between the old man and the robot.

“No,” the robot’s voice is deep and smooth.

More soft scraping as Ren blinks, “okay.” Ren mans the coffee making apparatus while the customers chat amongst themselves. As the coffee brews Ren watches them, the robot in particular.

Ren pours and saucers the coffee. The cups and saucers clink against each other, Ren’s gloves squeak upon picking them up.

“Thank you dear,” the old man directs his kindly old man smile to Ren. “Say you’re quite old.” 

“Older than you?” Ren quips. A loud screech of wood on tile marks the tall robot standing up and glaring at Ren. The hum rises to a fever pitch, a fan kicks up with it.

“Yusuke it’s alright,” the old man touches the robot’s arm. His kindly old man smile remains but his voice and eyebrows have changed. 

The fan gradually stops, the hum slows.

The door jangles again, this time a familiar face tucking something into his pocket. 

“You must be Mr. Sakura,” the old man says to Sojiro.

Sojiro’s gaze lingers on the guest more than usual. “Yeah.” 

“Your assistant is quite funny.”

Sojiro raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh nothing like that,” the old man chortles. “Anyway wonderful coffee, just wonderful.”

Right then the tall robot faceplants into the counter. The low hum has ceased.

The old man tsks, “my apologies. Yusuke has a bad habit of overclocking itself on the tiniest things.”

“What’s it need?” Sojiro asks, talking fast but gruff. “We’ve got a charging station upstairs.”

The old man waves an aimless hand. “Needs a bit of sun and a sit that’s all.”

Sojiro turns to it. “Ren.”

“On it,” Ren responds, following Sojiro out the counter flap and extracting the tall robot from the chair.

Ren looks at the old man. “Where’s its panels?”

“No panels, Yusuke absorbs energy through its hair and lenses.” 

A loud deliberate scrape as Ren blinks. “Okay.” 

Swinging one of Yusuke’s arms around its shoulder Ren carries it out the front door. 

“Ren be careful with it!” Sojiro calls out.

“Yusuke’s durable,” the old man chuckles. “Though I think it’s malfunctioning. It’s been doing this a lot.”

“Not a malfunction.”

Ren whips its head to face Yusuke who doesn’t appear any more powered on than before.

Despite its height Yusuke doesn’t weigh as much as it looks. Even further to Ren’s surprise is once Ren sets Yusuke into a patio chair it maintains balance.

Ren pokes Yusuke’s eyelid then yanks its hand back as if electrocuted. Yusuke’s skin is soft. Not soft like Sojiro, but more soft than hard. Gently Ren pries Yusuke’s eyelids up then rotates the chair so its hair and lenses catch the sunshine.

After a while Yusuke’s lenses dilate and contract, the low hum starts up again, if a bit choppy.

“R Yusuke?” Ren tries.

Some more quiet whirring and clicking later Yusuke shifts itself into a more natural position. It finally looks at Ren.

“The service robot from the cafe,” Yusuke gasps, like Ren isn’t here.

“Not a service bot.” 

Yusuke taps its chin for a moment. “Where’s sensei?”

“Talking to Sojiro.”

Yusuke hums, steepling its fingers to its chin. “Why am I out here?”

“You collapsed. So you’re charging,” Ren says. Tugging at its red gloves and catching the sun on its shins.

Suddenly it has a face full of tall robot yanking it by the apron. “How long have I been in the sun!?”

“Few minutes,” Ren pipes, the sound a bit crackly. Its speaker doesn’t do so hot around electronics. 

“How many?” Yusuke hisses through grit teeth.

“‘Bout five,” Ren says with a pop. Hardly does it wrestle one glove off before Yusuke snatches its hand.

“Sensei was right you are _old_ ,” Yusuke murmurs. Gripping Ren’s hand tight and examining it with a hawk’s gaze. 

“Hey,” Ren crackles. Curling its fingers all the little ball-joints make a sound like nails on chalkboard.

“So uncouth yet your coffee belies your appearance,” Yusuke whispers. “What secrets lie in within?” Yusuke grips Ren’s cheeks and wrenches its head up so they’re seeing lens to lens.

“Ư̡͢͞m̵̧̛͞,” Ren’s speaker is all but shot this close. Ren counts Yusuke’s eyelashes, watches the pupils in Yusuke’s lenses dilate just like real ones. If they weren’t this close Ren wouldn’t know better.

“Oh!” Yusuke lets go of Ren’s face. “I’ve been out here for too long.” Then it’s dashing back into Leblanc.

Ren blinks and shakes its legs out, it’s about charged as well.

***

Its vision slowly comes back into focus, colours even out until Ren recognises the early afternoon light filtering through the attic. Sojiro stands next to the bed.

“You didn’t set your sleep timer?” Sojiro raises an eyebrow at it.

“Mona hits the switch.” There’s something tickly in its abdomen.

Sojiro looks at its navel and the fluffy tail peeking out below its sleep shirt. “Futaba keeps complaining about cat hair under your hood.”

Ren shrugs. 

“Anyways. Get changed and come downstairs.” 

Bracing a hand over where Morgana sleeps in its navel, Ren gets changed. 

It walks downstairs, accompanied by the rumble of Morgana snoring in its belly. Ren sees a telltale cloud of smoke out the front window. Heading out, Ren takes the patio seat opposite of Sojiro. Adjusting its wide-brimmed straw hat, Ren makes sure its face is out the sun and shins are in it.

There seems to be no end to the storm Sojiro smokes up. It is several hours before his typical smoke break.

“What happened?” Ren asks. 

“That guy yesterday wanted to talk,” Sojiro takes a drag. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

“How come?”

“What business has Madarame got with me?”

“You know him?” Ren tilts its head.

Sojiro stubs the cigarette, “nope.” Standing up, he heads back in.

Ren’s pocket buzzes loudly, they take their phone out and flip it open.

‘Wanna hang out? School ends in an hour.’

‘Yes’, Ren buttons out an affirmative then tucks their phone back in. It takes about an hour to get to Shibuya and half an hour to do chores. So Ren will be right on time.

First it brews a casual thermos of coffee then braves the five minute walk to the clinic. Usually three minutes but Ren has precious cargo. They halt in front of the clinic. 

“Morgana,” Ren slips a hand into its abdomen to poke him.

Morgana yawns luxuriously, stretching every which way to maximise shedding coverage before jumping out of Ren’s navel. 

“I’ll be out soon,” Ren pats Morgana’s head then goes in.

No patients in the waiting area, the woman behind the desk whistles upon Ren’s entrance. “I thought you finally died.”

“Not yet,” Ren sets the thermos on the counter. Frantic fuzzy buzzing comes from its speaker when she pokes its cheek. 

“I’ll have to grow you some new skin.” 

“You really don’t,” Ren squeaks. 

She grins, “nonsense. I’ve got a new skin mix I want to try.” Her hand moves to its hair. “Maybe we can try something new here too.”

“No thank you,” Ren goes a pitch higher and the speaker crackles. 

“Guinea pig,” she sings.

“No thank you!” Ren says quickly then scurries out the clinic. 

After the most harrowing task of the day the others fly by. Ren comes back to an empty Leblanc save for Sojiro watching tv.

“Going to Shibuya,” Ren says.

“Eh? Your friends can come here you know.” 

“I know.”

Sojiro continues squinting at it. “They a lady?” 

“Not a lady.”

“That boy with the leg?”

“The boy with the leg,” Ren says then heads upstairs. Grabbing its messenger bag off the table it walks to the shelf. Where did the pocket charger go? In the meantime it grabs its abdominal lid from next to the bed. A loud meow comes from the floor, Morgana paws at Ren’s leg.

“It looks funny if you sit in there.”

Morgana meows again.

Ren emits a long sigh and puts the abdominal plate in the bag. Scarcely pulling its shirt up before Morgana leaps into the cavity. It finds its pocket charger in short order and heads to town. 

“Hello,” Ren says in a small voice before stepping onto the train.

***

“F̡ift̷̴̨y ̸̸̴ņ͞o͜͟͠w͏̷͢,” Ren whispers, voice more fuzz than voice. It presses its cheek closer to the glass of the prize machine.

“Dude,” the blond next to it chokes out between giggles. Then claws at Ren’s shoulder. “Shitshitshit Ren stop. She’s coming!” 

“What’s going on here?”

Ren looks up to meet bright auburn lenses, looking down from under a police cap. 

“Mister Sakamoto and R Amamiya,” she says tersely.

“Hi Makoto,” Ryuji waves a shaky hand. 

“Are you tampering with the machines?”

“Not any more than they do.”

Makoto crosses her arms. “Magnetising the claw is highly illegal.”

Ryuji’s shoulders slacken. “We’re not messing with the claw!”

Makoto looks at Ren’s hand pressed low against the side of the machine.

“Well… It’s the pressure,” Ryuji explains. “They usually set the claw’s pressure real low so you can’t grab shit.”

“That’s a terrible lie and you’re a poor sport,” Makoto snorts. “I’m sure the claw pressure is perfectly fair.”

“It̡’̀͡s̷̨ ̵r̡͢e҉a͟͝l̨̕͜l҉̶ỳ ̕҉ņot̛.” 

Makoto takes a step away, Ryuji rubs his ears, a loud angry yowl sounds inside it. Ren can’t say it blames them.

“What did it say?” Makoto asks, wincing.

“Ren says go ahead and try any machine.”

“Try?” Makoto whispers, taking a step back before squaring her shoulders. “I will then!” She rolls up her sleeves and scans the row of UFO catcher machines.

“That one looks pretty easy,” Ryuji points to a catcher with a toy dangling over the edge of the drop off.

“I’ll choose the machine,” Makoto glares daggers at him. She settles on a machine full of huge Buchimaru dolls.

“She’s got to be joking,” Ryuji mutters.

Her attempt goes as well as predicted. Makoto gets a good grip on a doll, but it hardly lifts before slipping out the claw.

“Bullshit!” She hisses.

“Right!?” Ryuji points to the machine that Ren is crouched against, its hand hasn’t moved. “Try this one.”

Being on the floor next to the machine Ren can’t see a whole lot of what’s going on. A buzz as the machine eats a bill, the jolly crane music starts and changes accordingly when Makoto hits the button. Then a resounding crunch.

“Oh my.” Makoto’s hands fly to her mouth.

“Dude,” Ryuji looks at Ren through the glass panelling. “How high did you crank it?”

Ren shrugs, and tries to laugh. It sounds more like a ‘krrshchh’ than human language.

The machine dumps whatever Makoto won in the chute and she pulls out a figurine box. A box with some claw marks and punctures, the figure inside beyond mention.

She turns it around in her hands. “While this has been very informative I’m afraid your actions have damaged arcade property so-”

“You’re not gonna fine us!” Ryuji’s jaw drops. “Especially ‘cause we uh, ‘informed’ you and all.”

“That is true,” she says with a faint quirk to her lips. 

“Ugh Ren let’s go,” Ryuji says loudly. “Seeing as the _cops_ are here and all,” he sticks his tongue out at Makoto and she rolls her eyes.

Makoto walks with them to the exit, Ryuji walks out. Ren follows his suit until its face to face with Makoto’s elbow, as she’s slammed her fist to the wall.

“R Amamiya, you’re on thin ice,” she murmurs.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Ren says, not quite meeting her gaze.

“They aren’t that expensive.”

“It’s not that easy,” Ren sighs and its whole body deflates with it. A chorus of squeaky ball-joints and screeching metal. “I’m out-of-date.”

“I know but just,” the humming from Makoto ramps up for a moment, “what if you run into someone meaner?”

Ren looks at her lenses dead on. “You’re not mean, Makoto.”

A tiny sound bursts from her, maybe a laugh. “Tch. Whatever.” She takes her fist away from the wall. “Now get.”

Ren gets.

“And I told you it’s Officer Niijima when I’m on duty!”

Ren tumbles out the door into Ryuji and they share a laugh. 

“Still not registered buddy?”

Ren shakes its head. 

Ryuji frowns, “then your stipend…?”

Ren shakes its head again.

***

“Oh you’re back,” Sojiro says well after Ren walks in. The sound he makes after has Ren taking pause.

“Madarame’s apprentice, from the other day,” Sojiro starts. 

“R Yusuke is there,” Ren points to the sleeping heap in the booth closest to the stairs.

“Ren.” 

They stare at each other for a moment. Ren cracks first, a small fuzzy sound coming from its speaker. They both laugh.

“Anyway,” Sojiro says turning back to the curry. “That kid came in looking for you and powered down when I told it I didn’t know when you’d be back.” He stirs the curry for a moment, “it said to power it back on when you came back.”

Ren sets its bag down in another booth and walks closer to Yusuke. “Where is it?”

“Ah seriously, shouldn’t you know that?” 

“You worked with robots.” 

“Back when they were all tin cans like you.”

Ren tentatively pokes at Yusuke’s cheek.

“Oi cut that out. We’re done for if we damage it and Madarame sues us,” Sojiro hurries out from behind the counter and stands next to Ren. “Most of ‘em have the power switch around the head.” 

Ren pokes Yusuke’s cheek again. 

“Not there, and that only works on Futaba.”

The switch ends up being on the back of Yusuke’s neck, around the hairline. Sojiro presses it. A few quiet moments pass.

“Maybe it just takes a while to boot up,” Sojiro scratches his beard.

“No.” There’s no hum.

“Hush,” Sojiro waves a hand at Ren. “Let it boot.”

“Not even a bit on,” Ren says filing a rough spot on its hand.

Sojiro sighs, “alright take ‘em upstairs and put it on the cable. The port’s near the switch. It might be malfunctioning again.”

“Not a malfunction,” Ren says quietly. Voice but a puff of winter frost against its collar.

“What was that?”

By then Ren’s already halfway up the stairs, Yusuke in tow.

Tugging aside Yusuke’s collar Ren sees something. It pulls up the back of Yusuke’s shirt, its lenses buzz and click loudly with the influx of visual information.

Large black patches on Yusuke’s skin greet Ren, varying sizes. Upon focus they are places where artificial skin gave way to circuitry.

Ren sets the charging cable aside. Quickly tugging Yusuke’s shirt back down and running downstairs to the big yellow phone. 

“Ren? What’s wrong?” Sojiro calls out from the kitchen.

“I don’t know,” Ren calls back before jabbing its finger at the phone. The wheel on the face of the phone slows the dialling process down greatly. Ren’s finger points make thunk thunk noises with each number.

“Huh?” A voice picks up.

“Futaba, come here immediately,” Ren replies.

“What?” She stammers, “I just woke up. I can’t just-“

“Something’s wrong with this robot,” Ren says.

“I’m on my way,” Futaba says wide awake.


	2. Chapter 2

Grey light filters into Ren’s lenses.

“You’re finally up.”

“Morning to you too,” Ren grumbles. It stretches, a feeble attempt to warm up the old speaker and its stiff limbs. Morgana’s sour tone doesn’t help.

“I tried to wake you up earlier. Your cat was upset,” the deep sound chimes again and Ren freezes. That’s not Morgana.

The world slowly comes into focus. Ren’s gaze sinks to a fresh tear on Yusuke’s hand, a sliver of brilliant green circuit board gleams cheerfully.

Dread wells up in Ren’s chassis. Basic first aid, what did Futaba always complain about? 

“Let’s find a bandage,” Ren says trying to keep its shaky sweaty voice under control. A bandage would keep dust from getting into the wound, a frequent complaint from Futaba and Takemi. 

Blowing the dust off a large box, Ren finds an old kit from Takemi. Inside is a roll of medicated bandage, meant for humans but it’ll do.

Yusuke makes a face that implies it’s just as confused as Ren is. 

Takemi could fix it. Maybe. Yusuke’s skin looks different to Ren’s however. Taking another gander Ren sees some pink tones, much more realistic than the graduated film Ren had for skin.

“What are you doing?” Yusuke asks.

Ren points to the gash on Yusuke’s hand then keeps dressing it. Yusuke’s hand is warm.

“Oh.” 

Yusuke‘s stare could burn a hole in the bandaging. Time slows to a crawl. Ren catalogs the minute changes in Yusuke’s expression, the dread grows.

“Why yes I do demand recompense,” Yusuke monotones.

Ren feels it should have let its speaker stay stiff, cold, and most importantly, quiet.

***

Ren shuts its lenses and yawns, lips unmoving. It doesn’t make sense, like many other happenings, but it gives Ren something to do.

A tingle against its leg halts it mid yawn. Another text, much like the other times doesn’t bother taking its phone out. Not yet, not when its still drained from spending all morning negotiating with Yusuke. 

It still hasn’t found a lesser evil between ‘giving Yusuke its memory chip’ and ‘spending the day with Yusuke’. However Ren has found what’s less scary. 

So here they are.

Ueno and the museum are a first. A rough first given its chaotic morning with Yusuke, since then things have been much calmer. Its phone tingles again and Ren slaps its leg a bit, it itches. Every time Ren’s taken the phone out to set it to silent it finds it already set, robot-friendliness distinctly lacking.

Maybe if it entertains Futaba she’ll stop texting, it flips its phone open to a ream of messages. Going through them all is a bit much for Ren’s processing capabilities but its very impressed all the same. 

A tap on the shoulder pulls Ren out of its thoughts and face to face with a tour group.

“Take these to the coat room would you dear?”

All of Ren’s words trip over themselves trying to get out, politely explain why it can’t assist them. In the end the gaggle of museum patrons walks off, leaving Ren with a bunch of heavy coats. 

“You have visited the gift shop I take it?”

Ren whirls around to see Yusuke holding two passes.

“No!” Ren hisses. “There’s been a mistake.”

“Ah. That’s unfortunate,” Yusuke hands one of the tickets to Ren. “Shall we be off?”

Ren shakes the coats. 

“Oh right, those should be addressed. Picking those up before was unwise.” 

“Yeah,” Ren says slowly. It’s been groping around the coat pile for some time now and Ren’s pretty sure it’s found some phones, watches, and credit cards.

“Give me a moment,” Ren says as it cranks the magnet in its hand as high as it’ll go.

After dumping the coats somewhere of dubious propriety. They head down a contemporary exhibit, much to Ren’s relief. Sometimes Yusuke stops to read descriptions, not for long. Along the way a wince set itself on Yusuke’s features and has been steadily growing deeper.

“You’ve no experience with art?” Yusuke asks, Ren assumes its asking. Yusuke doesn’t practice much intonation.

“No.”

A purr comes from Yusuke’s processor. It says several things and makes various hand gestures, none of which Ren hears or understands. 

“What do you think of these works?”

“They’re nice.”

“Nice?” Yusuke scrunches its eyebrows. “Do they grip you?” It grips Ren by the shoulders and digs its fingers in like claws. 

“What?”

“Set your heart aflutter!?” Yusuke says more urgently, leaning in so they’re face to face. Its lenses wide open with a wild glint. Up this close Ren can see its tear ducts and the teeny tiny little holes inside.

Staring at Yusuke has Ren somewhat faint, or that was the aversion to electromagnetic waves speaking. 

“Haven’t got one,” Ren squeaks, voice tinny through thick static. “Technically.”

Yusuke steps out of Ren’s personal bubble, voice returning to a normal cadence. “That’s true,” Yusuke says, more to itself then sighs. “Well, great artists do not cater to pedestrian sensibilities.”

They continue down the hall. Ren’s shoulders burn where Yusuke grabbed them. Maybe Takemi could provide it a thicker skin with more rubber or something, hell if Ren knew how these things work. An idea for another time. 

Ren twists its head, desperately combing the scenery for something interesting. If there’s something in this hall that could move Yusuke like that Ren should pay more attention.

A loud screech sounds as Ren bumps into Yusuke, the other robot having come to an abrupt stop.

Yusuke claps a hand hard to its own mouth for a moment before removing it like nothing happened. “I’ve been experimenting.”

Behind them patrons wait to read the description on this painting, Ren tugs Yusuke’s sleeve and takes them to the next painting. 

“How’s that been?”

Yusuke quietly stares at the painting, which looks much like the rest of the paintings they’ve seen. That could just be Ren, it wouldn’t know. Ren feels its phone light up. Checking that Yusuke is reading another painting description, Ren looks at the screen. 

‘All the serial numbers were filed off too good. Whoever flipped them was thorough.’

The conspiracy theory of the morning Ren’s been ignoring. Robots have many reasons to file off serial numbers and to use parts with filed off serial numbers.

Ren certainly does.

Futaba had taken the liberty of deciding Yusuke must have come from the black market.

_‘You don’t understand! It must be some runaway government bot!’_

Radio static flares from Ren’s speaker. So what.

Ren pockets its phone to find Yusuke staring right at its face.

“I helped sensei set up for an exhibit a few weeks ago.”

“How was that?” Ren asks, feigning more interest than strictly necessary.

Yusuke falls quiet again and Ren wonders if this will continue for the rest of the day.

“He threw out the piece I submitted.”

“That’s rude.”

“That’s not,” Yusuke’s hand flexes. “Madarame is a great artist. If the piece wasn’t satisfactory that’s all there is to it.” All the while Yusuke says this it keeps its head high, gaze ahead, and fist clenched. Then its marching off to the next painting.

Ren’s phone tingles again. After confirming that Yusuke is definitely looking somewhere else it checks its phone.

‘ID chip is kind of bogus.’

Not exactly like Ren then. It taps a message back. ‘Is the name real?’ 

Pocketing its phone again Ren looks up and drifts to a piece.

“You like this one?”

Ren jolts hard enough for the joints in its shoulders to screech. Yusuke has got to stop sneaking up on it. It looks back to the painting.

“Yeah? It’s…” Ren trails off. Magnetic? Perhaps something less literal. How had Yusuke put it?

“Gripping, I suppose.” 

Yusuke leans closer to the painting. “I think I know what you mean.”

Simultaneously they look at the placard under the frame.

‘The first painting by a robot to be displayed in Japan.’ 

Following that is another line explaining where the painter is from, and who created the painter.

“That’s unfortunate,” Yusuke says. “I would have liked to know more about their process.”

Ren would have liked that too. 

For the rest of the walk down the hall Ren keeps its lenses peeled but nothing stands out like that one piece. Even Yusuke doesn’t read the placards with its previous gusto.

A tingle from its phone.

‘Seems real.’

Ren squints at the screen.

‘Then what’s bogus?’

Yusuke seems distracted, so is Ren if the momentary lack of filter means anything.

“I wanna see it,” come the words. Several seconds later Ren claps a hand to its speaker.

“See it?” Yusuke answers before Ren can wave the words away. It looks at Yusuke, feels the kicked up rumble of Yusuke’s processor, watches Yusuke’s lenses zooming and focusing on another painting. Aloof.

“Never mind.”

Ultimately it’s the most Ren feels for the whole exhibit. On the way out of the museum they pass a dispute near the cloak room. Ren walks faster.

***

Barely a step into the attic is Ren before getting gut punched by a leaping Morgana. A clang rings hollow through the room.

“Sorry.” Ren mumbles, scrambling to pry off its gut lid. 

Morgana hisses at it but follows as Ren slumps face down onto the bed.

All serial numbers filed off, a possible black market ID.

Morgana meows at Ren from the end of the bed.

“I’m not sleepy.” 

Maybe Ren doesn’t want to make anything of it. Maybe there isn’t anything to be made of it. The information churns through Ren’s gears like molasses, molasses full of burrs.

Morgana meows again, this time batting at Ren’s side. It rolls over face up for Morgana to immediately drag his grubby fur-riddled blanket into Ren’s cavity. 

“Wake me up at ten,” Ren says before the world goes dark.

Today the sun is warmer.

Ren yawns, voice a high metallic ring in its throat. Little motes dance about Leblanc’s foyer. On another day Ren may be more inclined to appreciate it.

Ren ambles downstairs at half past ten. A shock of bright orange hair sits at the counter sipping a bottle of soda. A muted indigo sits at the booth closest to the stairs.

Futaba looks up, “it came in and-“

“Powered down,” Ren finishes. “Asked me to wake it up.”

Futaba nods.

Ren traces a thumb along Yusuke’s hairline, eventually coming to an indent and pushing down. The processor whirs to life, and Yusuke opens its lenses. 

“Good morning,” Yusuke says.

“Morning,” Ren replies. It has many questions, too many questions. Opening the cafe sounds easier.

“Where’s Sojiro?” Ren calls out.

Futaba puffs her cheeks out. “He said something about forms again.”

Ren frowns, it’s been two years since the flood. Surely it didn’t take that long to recover civil documents. Before Ren can ponder it any longer the bells on the door jingle. 

The first customer trods in, air brakes pumping with each heavy step. Hanging his baseball cap on the rack by the door, he waves heartily at Ren.

“Mornin’!” Says the pitching machine from the batting cages down the street.

“Mornin’,” says Ren, “the usual?”

The pitcher pauses then points to Yusuke, busy with its sketchbook. “Haven’t seen that one around before, they a friend of yours?”

“Sure.” Ren answers, deliberately keeping its gaze on the curry pot. It _never_ knows where to look whenever the pitcher stops by. 

“Oh! That’s good, you know I worry about you hangin’ with just the old man and Futaba all the time.”

“Hey!” Futaba shouts.

Before that sentence fully sinks in the pitcher takes a seat at his usual booth, the one closest to the window. “Give it a drink on me, friendly welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“Yup,” Ren calls out, echoing Sojiro’s timbre.

“And put the tv on the sports channel will ya?”

“Yup,” Ren calls again. Switching the tv on and picking the beans to grind.

Yusuke seems engaged with the sketchbook, so it opts for brewing the pitcher’s usual. Gripping the saucer Ren swishes it and watches it ripple. Once he said this blend smells good.

Ren has never seen him drink it.

Walking to the corner booth, Ren peeks at Yusuke’s sketchbook. Slowing down as the sketchbook comes into view. Ren focuses on the open page.

Vague shapes, jars lining shelves, a head of stiff but springy cowlicks, thick spectacles. 

It sets the saucer down, if Yusuke notices its presence Ren is none the wiser. It clears its throat, “a present from the gentleman.”

Yusuke looks at the offering. “How generous.” 

Ren plucks its forelock like a guitar string, like a guitar string the taut metal makes a sproingy sound as it reverberates. “This blend’s better with milk.”

“I’ll take the good barista’s suggestion then.” Yusuke says, only its mouth moves. Not blinking, gaze unwavering.

Ren twangs its forelock hard enough the sharp metal tears the faux skin on its finger. In the periphery Ren sees the white of Yusuke’s bandaged finger.

“Animal or bean milk?” Ren asks.

“Whichever is superior.”

“Well…” There’s a harsh crackle as Ren holds that thought. Yusuke’s apparent talent for processing animal fat seems dangerous and slightly creepy. 

“Okay,” Ren says simply, ambling back to the fridge. On the way Futaba tugs its sleeve.

“Hm?”

Futaba makes unsubtle eye and head gestures in Yusuke’s direction while grunting.

Gingerly plucking Futaba’s hand off its sleeve Ren continues to the fridge. “No that’s weird.”

Teeny ceramic pitcher of bean milk in tow Ren sets it next to Yusuke’s mug. 

“You’re here again.”

“Indeed.” 

Yusuke takes the pitcher and pours, the bean milk makes a perfect arc. “The atmosphere here is conducive to art and… I’ve a wealth of free time lately.” 

Faint as the motion is, the corners of Yusuke’s lips pointing down stands out on an otherwise stoic face. All that remains of the magnificent arc are droplets, Yusuke’s coffee now a light brown.

By ‘better with’ Ren meant ‘just a splash’.

“Free time is good?” Ren says. Clacking its fingertips together when Yusuke shows no sign of hearing it.

“Sensei has taken on another apprentice.”

Clack. Clack.

“I want to discuss a concept with him.” 

Clack. “So do it.”

“Sensei is busy.”

Ren’s fingers still. “That’s annoying.”

Yusuke winces, fan roaring on for a moment but no response comes. 

The bells on the door jangle. 

“Enjoy your coffee Yusuke,” Ren says then heads back to the counter.

“Hey short stack!” A shock of blond yells.

“Stop calling me that!” Futaba yells as Ryuji plops down on the stool by her.

Waving back to Ryuji, Ren gets going on an iced coffee. The roar of the blender drowns out Ryuji and Futaba’s conversation. By the time Ren serves up the iced coffee they’ve stopped talking. Ryuji has a hand on his neck.

Puffing her cheeks she looks at him. “All you do is fall apart!”

“I mean it’s gummed up real bad. I don’t blame you if-”

“Oh ye of little faith!” Futaba swoons dramatically then rights herself. “Done.”

“Hell yes!” Ryuji throws both his arms up.

***

“It’s because your leg sucks.”

“Don’t be rude!” Ryuji grumbles.

“I hate this brand,” Futaba continues as if she didn’t hear him.

“Yeah I know it sucks,” he sighs. “They sponsor the team though.”

While they argue Ren sits on the floor, shins pressed against Futaba’s sun lamp. The light gives Ren some charge, but it’s not as good as being under the sun outside. Ren voices these concerns to Futaba.

“Doesn’t work great for seasonal affective disorder either so I guess that makes two of us,” she says flippantly.

“I’m gonna open the curtains,” Ren coos. It wriggles towards the curtains like a caterpillar. 

“You open those curtains I’ll open _you_.” 

Ren ceases its wriggling. 

“You are covering the light.” Yusuke shoves Ren’s ankles, adding insult to injury.

“Why’re they here again?” Ryuji asks from where he’s flopped back on Futaba’s bed.

“Establishing intimacy.” 

Ren hears copious spluttering, some rice cracker dust lands on its shoulder and hair.

“Uh Ren?” Ryuji whispers to its ear, in between coughs. “Something you’re not tellin’ me buddy?”

“Nope,” Ren answers. It tries to keep its voice down but it sounds like fuzzy sandpaper. Futaba’s room is the only place where Ren has to fight to be understood. That can’t mean anything good about the amount of signalage at work here. If Ren had better communications functions it may have had more to say about that.

“Oi,” Futaba chips in, dragging away Ryuji and with him the rice cracker bits. “Your leg isn’t gummed up.”

“Eh?” Ryuji squawks, “I’m tellin’ you-“

“Shhhhhhhh.” 

When Ryuji stops Futaba goes on. “Not physically at least, it is being slowed down though.”

“That’s dumb. I can’t run like this.”

Ren watches Futaba going from tinkering with Ryuji’s leg to reading notes on the computer at lightning speed. Sometimes she seems better at roboting than Ren. 

Maybe that’s how they haven’t strangled each other yet.

“They’re rolling out a new make in a few months,” Futaba says.

“What?” Ryuji gawks at her. “I swear they just did.”

“Probably.”

Ren looks between them. “Just..unslow it?”

“They’re real fussy about ‘tampering’,” Ryuji rolls his eyes and makes quotes with his hands, “with ‘school property’.”

He shoots Ren a wry smile. “You’ve got it good buddy. Not being-“

Ren very gently but firmly claps a hand over Ryuji’s mouth. A moment where Ren doesn’t want Yusuke to pay attention to them, so of course that’s when Yusuke joins the conversation.

“What an interesting model.” Yusuke says, so close behind Ren feels Yusuke’s electromagnetic signature on its back. Ren whirls around to find Yusuke staring at Ryuji, and pounces on the opening.

“Yeah he’s pretty stylish.”

Yusuke looks between Ryuji’s open leg and the bandage on its own finger. Gaze lingering on the bandage too long for Ren’s comfort. It takes Yusuke’s hand between its own. 

“Hm?”

“Your skin. It’s torn.” 

“You say this like yours is not.” Yusuke gestures at Ren’s hand. 

Ren pinches a loose flap of skin and pulls. Thin skin gives way to dull copper, no circuits in sight. “Bit different.”

“An aesthetic choice?” Yusuke says under its breath, thoroughly enraptured. Quiet enough that it’s difficult to tell whether it’s supposed to respond.

What a question though. While the skin is for aesthetic decency, to call it a choice feels wrong. It certainly wasn’t Ren’s choice at least. A quiet snicker sounds from behind Ren, it pokes Futaba.

“Anyway,” Futaba rips the cables off Ryuji’s leg. She flips the cover shut then gives his shin a few hearty if patronising pats. “I’ve loosened it a bit and copied the program.”

Ryuji swings his leg, eyes widening when the tips of his toes rise higher than his kneecap. “You’re a miracle worker!”

“I should have a dummy activity log set up soon,” Futaba mumbles. “Ren’ll message you.”

They wave Ryuji off. In his wake the only sounds are the hum of Futaba’s computers, the scratching of Yusuke’s pencil, and the occasional crackle of Ren’s speaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World building is fun but it’s difficult to make it fun to read aaaaaaa ><

**Author's Note:**

> I made a resolution to start this before the year ended so here we are.


End file.
